


bite

by earpcin



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, F/F, Implied/Referenced Incest, Murder, Non-Explicit Sex, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 14:45:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16725405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earpcin/pseuds/earpcin
Summary: Wynonna touches the side of her neck like she'll shatter if she pushes too hard. She brushes her hair clean out of the way and leans in, closer to the mirror. She sees the dust on it, the flecks of toothpaste at the bottom, the years old grime where it meets the frame. The light above the mirror throws out a crescent moon of illumination and it makes her feel uneasy. She grips the side of the sink so hard she wonders which would break first, the porcelain or her nails. With her other hand she feels the two points. They hurt to touch, raised and angry and inflamed. When her fingers come away, there is blood. She can feel the wound, so why can't she see it? Why can't she see anything?Why doesn't she have a reflection?Or:Vampire!Wynonna





	bite

**Author's Note:**

> Unedited, so expect errors. Lov u sweeties mwah

Wynonna touches the side of her neck like she'll shatter if she pushes too hard. She brushes her hair clean out of the way and leans in, closer to the mirror. She sees the dust on it, the flecks of toothpaste at the bottom, the years old grime where it meets the frame. The light above the mirror throws out a crescent moon of illumination and it makes her feel uneasy. She grips the side of the sink so hard she wonders which would break first, the porcelain or her nails. With her other hand she feels the two points. They hurt to touch, raised and angry and inflamed. When her fingers come away, there is blood. She can feel the wound, so why can't she see it? Why can't she see anything?

Why doesn't she have a reflection?

///

Waverly stops saying 'I'll see you at school' when she realises it isn't true - it's a good week if Wynonna shows up two days out of five. Even when she isn't flirting with truancy, they don't have any of the same classes, any of the same friends. Any of the same interests.

It’s not strange when Waverly doesn’t see her for a few days. She sends a happy short text and doesn’t worry when she doesn’t get an answer. Not for the first week. Not for the first two. But then it’s a month and no-one’s seen Wynonna, and Waverly is used to only seeing her at parties, but she isn’t used to not seeing her at all.

Waverly knows the first name of the very questionable friend Wynonna was crashing with. It’s not much to go on, but Waverly isn’t topping half her classes for nothing. She turns the name into an address and shows up without warning – it’s midday and the snow works like a million tiny mirrors. Waverly wonders if she’ll end up with a burn on the underside of her chin. 

Waverly knocks. And knocks and knocks and knocks. She knows Wynonna is here – her bike is in the driveway – and Waverly isn’t leaving until she gets visual confirmation she’s still alive.

“Wynonna, I’m not leaving until you-“Waverly yells and stops when she sees the curtains ruffling. Then she hears Wynonna’s voice, for the first time in forever. She sounds tired.

“Waverly, go home.”

“I’m not going until I see you.”

“I’ll call Gus, you know she doesn’t like you here.”

“You won’t call Gus.” Waverly says. She hears footsteps inside the house, coming up to the door. The locks on the other side slide open, one at a time. Waverly counts at least three. The door opens just a crack.

Wynonna looks tired, too.

“God Wynonna, what happened to you?”

Wynonna makes a motion to close the door again.

“Wait!” Waverly sticks her hand in between the door and the frame and Wynonna stops herself from closing it just in time.

“Fine,” Wynonna says, “Come inside.” She opens the door wider. Behind her, Waverly sees the curtains block out all the light from the outside. She notices her big Wynonna’s pupils are, like she hasn’t seen the sun in days.

“Ew, I don’t wanna go in there. It smells like smoke.” Waverly grabs Wynonna’s hand and pulls her with surprising strength, “Let’s go out, you could use some sun… and when did you last eat? You look really thin.”

Wynonna can’t catch herself fast enough, and lurches onto the porch. Waverly steps into the sun and takes just Wynonna’s left hand with her. Wynonna jumps back on instinct, doesn’t think about how strange and sharp the movement is until Waverly’s face falls.

“Fine,” Waverly crosses her arms over herself, “We’ll see how long you can stay here for.”

///

Wynonna watches from the top floor, a tiny gap between the curtains, as Waverly walks away. She has her backpack over both shoulders and keeps adjusting it. Her footsteps are fast but strict and identical.

She steps back from the windows when Waverly is almost out of view, and pulls the curtains shut tightly. She almost sits on the bed out of reflex, and tiredness, but jumps up when she remembers what’s on it.

He’s still unconscious. Wynonna reaches for the knife she’d left on the bedside table. He was the one who tried to touch her, she tells herself, and she knows she wasn’t the first girl he’d tried it with. Or the youngest. She tells herself he deserves it.

Wynonna has his hands and feet tied up but it’s unnecessary. He won’t be waking up again.

///

Three weeks later and Waverly's walking home from seeing a movie with Chrissy. She's alone. It's night. Even though it's a small town, Waverly knows to be weary. Still, she almost misses her. Wynonna's leaning against a wall in an alley across the street, so still and so dark she almost looks like part of it. It's the shine of her hair that gives her away. Waverly has to looks twice to make sure it's her, but she knows the outfit. Knows the posture.

She's about to cross the street and saw hi, but something in her body tells her not to. Waverly stops walking while she’s still a good distance away, and slinks back into the shadows. She wraps her jacket tight around herself. And waits.

Wynonna is waiting too. Waverly wonders what she's waiting for until a man shows up. He's tall, too tall to be remotely close to her age, but he's skinny. Waverly doesn't recognise him and figures he must be some kind of a drifter - that's what the clothes suggest, at least. She sees a tattoo of a tiger on his left forearm. He grabs Wynonna around the waist and she falls forward into him. They kiss.

Waverly rips her eyes off them and walks off, not understanding her own fury.

///

The next, they find a body. A man with a tiger tattoo.

When she goes to Wynonna’s last known address, her bike isn’t in the driveway. Even from outside the house, Waverly knows what the smell is. The police get there within ten minutes, and Waverly lies to them.

She texts Wynonna, the one thing she can think of that might get a response.

‘I saw you.’

///

Waverly waiting, tearing up sugar packets, until she's all but sure Wynonna isn't going to show. Her coffee is way past cold and the diner owner is way past suspicious, and that's for a diner owner in purgatory, about what the teenage girl is doing waiting here alone at ten minutes to midnight. She doesn't even drink coffee.

The bell on the door sounds and Waverly's head snaps up, half expecting just another drunk or drunk dealer. She isn't sure if she should be relieved when Wynonna steps in.

Before she even gets close, Waverly can tell she's looking better. Her hair is brighter, as full and heavy as it should be, and even through the sunglasses she's wearing Waverly can tell her skin looks brighter too. She would question who the fuck wears sunglasses indoors at night time, but this is Wynonna, and this is Purgatory.

Wynonna looks lost for a second, scanning the diner. She finds Waverly and walks with her head ducked. Waverly drinks her coffee and almost spits it out. Every time she leaves this diner, she convinces herself the coffee wasn’t as bad as she thought it was. Every time she comes back, she proves herself wrong all over again.

“Hey,” Wynonna’s voice comes out all dusty, like she hasn’t used it in weeks. She coughs and tries again, “How are you?” Wynonna slides into the booth opposite Waverly. She doesn’t take her glasses off.

The waitress comes over before Waverly can get a word out. Wynonna asks for a black coffee, just to get her gone fast.

“So,” Waverly says.

“So.”

Through the sunglasses, Waverly can still tell Wynonna is making pointed eye contact with her. Trying to assert some kind of control. Fuck that.

“You killed that guy,” Waverly says.

Wynonna takes her sunglasses off and sets them on the table, “Jesus, Wave. Keep your voice down.”

“So you’re not even gonna deny it?”

Wynonna’s mouth twitches, “It’s not… like that, Waverly. He wasn’t a good person.”

“So it was self-defence?”

“I…” Wynonna pauses for too long for whatever she says next to be even remotely believable. She’s aware enough of that, and exhales, “Look, it’s complicated. There’s… things you don’t know.”

“And your friend? The guy you were staying with? Was that self-defence?”

“That was, actually.”

Waverly lifts an eyebrow.

“You’ll forgive my scepticism.”

Wynonna sighs.

“Why did you call me here, Wave? Either you’re gonna tell the police or you’re not, and I never really had you pegged as a snitch.”

“I don’t want to throw you in prison…” Waverly trails off as the waitress comes back into sight, with the coffee. The conversation comes to an abrupt pause while she’s in earshot. Waverly gives her a polite smile as she backs away and leaves them alone again, “I just want answers.”

Before Wynonna can even try to deflect, Waverly slaps a folder on the table. Wynonna, despite herself, is filled with pride for a second. That was so Waverly.

Waverly opens the folder and Wynonna doesn’t even need to read the words to know what it’s about. The diagrams – the flash of teeth, the symbols – it’s enough for Wynonna to tear her eyes away like she’s been burned. She wonders if just the image of the cross had that effect, or if it’s just her own anxiety making her feel like that.

Waverly sees her reaction and knows immediately how right she is. She leans back into the booth and settles deeply into her smug satisfaction.

“Waverly…that’s….” Wynonna tries to laugh, but it falls quickly, “That’s ridiculous.”

There’s no conviction when Wynonna speaks. Waverly skips right over her protests.

“When did you get turned?”

Wynonna shrugs her shoulders.

“I don’t remember, exactly.”

“What do you mean you don’t remember?”

I mean, I wasn’t exactly in my right mind…”

Waverly rolls her eyes.

“Meaning you were high.”

Wynonna rubs the back of her neck. Drifts her fingers over to where the bite marks are.

“How long?”

“A little less than a month.”

Waverly nods. “And how many?”

“What?”

“How many people have you killed?”

Wynonna winces and looks over her shoulder. The waitress is busy with another customer, but she still doesn’t like it.

“This isn’t the place, couldn’t you have just called me or-“

“You don’t answer my calls.”

Waverly locks her fingers together on the table. Touché.

“So how much of it is true? Can you go out in sunlight? How often do you need to… feed?”

Wynonna downs her coffee in one swig. She stares Waverly down, but it doesn’t have the effect she wants. Waverly is not backing off. Wynonna breaks first.

“Okay, “she says, “Okay.”

///

They talk for an hour. The garlic thing is bullshit. There’s no fangs, either, which Wynonna says is deeply inconvenient. She has to bring her own knife. Lock her lips around the wound. Suck.

Waverly rips her eyes up.

Wynonna’s rubbing her arm like she’s had an injection. She won’t make eye contact.

“You can’t just keep killing people,” she says.

Wynonna nods.

“You’ll get caught.”

“I know.”

Waverly drums her fingers on the table.

“You’re sloppy.”

Wynonna looks up. She can see the vein in Waverly’s neck pulsing. She might as well be translucent. Wynonna imagines sucking all the colour out of her like a Slurpee. She doesn’t know how to explain why she’s blushing, being undead and all.

///

Wynonna walks in from the kitchen, looking sea sick, and Waverly already knows it didn’t work. She rubs at the corner of her mouth, the one little red trickle she’d missed.

“It’s no good,” Wynonna says, “I feel worse.”

Wynonna walks to the couch and drops herself down.

Waverly think about the poor lamb that’d died for nothing. Neck slit and dripping its life into a bucket.

“It was worth a shot,” Wynonna consoles. She puts her hand on Waverly’s knee.

Wynonna settles deeper into the couch. She relaxes for less than a second before she senses it on the next inhale. She becomes acutely aware of how hungry she is, as she smells the iron stronger with each second.

Wynonna clasps her hand around her face, “Waverly, are you bleedi-“

Wynonna cuts herself off when she sees Waverly shift, pull her knee away. Waverly runs her own hand over her lower abdomen, circles the organs then subconsciously. Wynonna burns in embarrassment for both of them. It’s like blood, but off. Murky, almost. Not entirely unpleasant. Not entirely off putting. Wynonna leans forward like Waverly’s gravity is pulling her in. In the next second, Waverly excuses herself and heads for the bathroom.

///

At night, Wynonna slips her hand under her blanket. She remembers the way Waverly had smelled, and snakes her hand lower and lower. The back of er throat feels dry and she can’t make enough spit to end the discomfort.

Her hand finds heat and she sighs. Wynonna rolls onto her side as she starts to move her hand. She’s done this enough to know what she likes, and she sees no point in teasing herself. Not when she knows what she wants. Who she wants.

Her mind fills with images that she conjures up too easily, in too much resolution. Waverly’s clothes often show so much of her figure, there isn’t even that much that she has to imagine. She sees Waverly’s face, sweaty and hot, eyes closed and mouth open. All the blood in her lips.

She imagines kissing her. Teeth clashing until the skin breaks, and sucking on her split lip.

Wynonna cums with her face half hidden in the pillow. She wipes her hand on the sheet, rolls onto her back, and goes immediately to sleep.

///

Waverly marches in without knocking. Wynonna immediately regrets not locking the door, but it’s too late for regrets like that now. She’s here anyway, and Wynonna can tell by her expression that she doesn’t plan to leave easily.

Waverly tosses her backpack down and it slides a couple of feet across the wooden floor. She puts her hand on her hip, as if she doesn’t already have all of Wynonna’s attention and then some.

“I had an idea,” Waverly walks closer to the couch and Wynonna scoots over to clear a place for her. She sits down, hands politely on her knees, and faces Wynonna.

Wynonna raises an eyebrow.

“About?” she asks.

Waverly rolls her eyes. “You know what about.”

Wynonna sits back, and gestures for her to continue.

“Okay, so,” Waverly starts off talking fast but stumbles two words in. Her words catch in her throat, and Wynonna can practically see the gears turning in her head, like she’s deciding whether or not she should share, “... I know it sounds.... but-”

“Waverly.” Wynonna urges her to continue. She might be ageless now, but she doesn’t have all day.

“I was just thinking. You need to feed on humans, but you can’t just... kill strangers. And we don’t want anyone else to know, and so far I’m the only other person who knows, so.”

“So?”

“Feed from me.”

Wynonna blinks twice in confusion. She looks away, at the ground, then back up at Waverly. she opens her mouth, and closes it again, not yet able to find the words. She waits the five seconds it takes for her brain to catch up with her ears, to confirm that what she thought she heard was really what she’d heard.

“Waverly, that’s...” Wynonna is already shaking her head, but more to herself than at Waverly, “...that’s crazy, what do you even mean, like-”

“Like, you bite me.”

Waverly’s face is straight and set, calm in contrast to the chaos in Wynonna’s mind.

“I’m serious,” she adds, but Wynonna had already guessed that from her expression.

Wynonna brought her hand up to her hand. Rubbed it across the bottom half of her face. The stern rejection that she knew she should give was slipping further and further away with each passing second, and Wynonna find her eyes drifting.

She focused on Waverly’s neck, at the spot where she could just make up the slight discolouration caused by her veins. She liked her lips, acutely aware of how long it had been since she’d fed.

“There.. has to be another way,” Wynonna says.

Waverly takes her hand, and intertwines their fingers.

“It’s okay, Wynonna. You need this.”

Wynonna sets her jaw.

“I can’t ask you to do that.”

Waverly rubs her thumb across the back of Wynonna’s hand.

“You’re not asking,” she says. Waverly leans into her side, rubbing her cheek against the cool leather of Wynonna’s jacket.

“I’m offering.”

///

Waverly sits on the edge of the bed, one leg crossed over the other. Her eyes are open but she’s not seeing anything, just looking ahead at the wall, listening through the wall and trying to picture exactly what Wynonna is doing on the other side of the door.

The door handle turns, and Waverly jolts in surprise. The door creaks slowly open, and Waverly sees Wynonna’s hand before anything else. The light is on in the bathroom and out in the bedroom, and the back lighting leaves Wynonna in a stark silhouette.

In Wynonna’s hand, Waverly can see a bright white glint, and a sharp point. She swallows, and uncrosses her legs. Wynonna closes the door behind her.

The bed creaks with the additional weight. Wynonna puts the blade down, straight across her knee. Waverly does her best not to look at it. She doesn’t want to know how big it is, how bad it looks. It’s too late for her to turn back, anyway.

“Are you ready?” Wynonna asks.

“As I’ll ever be.”

Ready as she’ll ever be, in his case, isn’t very ready at all. Still, they’re fresh out of options.

“Okay, where do you want to cut?”

Waverly thinks about it for a second. She crosses her arms over herself. It has to be somewhere it won’t be easily seen. Not to close to an artery. Somewhere it won’t... where it’ll hurt less. She knows it’ll hurt.

“My thigh.”

Wynonna nods. She slips a finger through the loop on Waverly’s jeans.

“You’ll have to take this off,” she says, “I can... should I wait in the bathroom?”

Waverly shakes her head no.

“Come on, we’re sisters. It’s fine.”

Waverly stands up and unzips the fly. She slides her thumbs into the gaps between the fabric and her skin and starts to shimmy the fabric down her hips.

Wynonna draws in a sharp breathe when Waverly exposes her underwear. It’s plain and black, not meant to be overly sexy, but on Waverly it’s...

Wynonna shakes her head, trying to force those thoughts away. Her mouth is watering, about more than the blood. When she’s discarded her jeans, Waverly sits back down. She crosses on leg over the over, then leans forward with her arms crossed over her lap, awkwardly trying to protect her modesty.

“So, how do we do this?” Waverly asks, “How do you usually... feed?”

“The normal way won’t work,” Wynonna is quick to answer, “Normally, I go for the neck.”

She raises the knife, and it catches the rays from the half moon fluorescent light in the bathroom. Wynonna makes a sideways slashing motion. It;s a good distance away from Waverly, but still enough to get her heart rate up. Subconsciously, Waverly moves her hand to cover her neck.

“Slash and try to drink as much as I can. It’s... messy.”

Waverly nods, considering.

“How much blood do you need?”

“Not too much,” Wynonna says. She adds, “Not enough to hurt you. If it was that much, I... I wouldn’t. I couldn’t.”

Waverly places a hand on Wynonna’s back.

“I know.”

Wynonna twirls the knife around in her hand.

“So, do you wanna make the cut, or - “

“You do it,” Waverly says. She knows she wouldn’t be able to. Her survival instincts are too turned on. There’s a block that would stop her from being able to follow through. Waverly’s afraid that the second she held a knife to her own skin, some primal instinct would roar, and she’d snap out of whatever trance Wynonna has her in.

Wynonna nods, and sinks to the floor, on her knees.

Her hair bounces and rolls with the movements, and cascades over her shoulders. Waverly turns her body toward her, until Wynonna is between her legs.

Wynonna puts a hand on each of her knees, the knife blade flat and threatening against her left leg. When Wynonna lifts it up, her hand shakes.

Waverly’s skin is pale, and it helps Wynonna see where the veins are. With her unarmed hand, she starts at Waverly’s knee, and traces slowly up.

“Here?” Wynonna looks up at Waverly, eyes wide and almost watery.

“No, that’s too low. It’ll show in my cheer leading skirt.”

Wynonna takes another shaky breath, and moves her hand higher still.

“H-here?”

Wynonna’s hand is getting close to very dangerous territory. Neither of them are willing to acknowledge it, but they both know where Wynonna’s mouth will be soon, and the optics of their position aren’t great. Still, Waverly says, “Yeah, that...that’ll work.”

Wynonna pulls the skin there taught with her left hand. With her right, she lifts the knife, and brings it against the skin.

“Should I do it fast, like a band-aid?”

“Yeah. Be careful, though, don’t go to deep.”

“Okay. Do you want to look away?”

Waverly can’t see much of what’s going on anyway, with the darkness and Wynonna’s head in the way, but she sets her head straight and her eye line lands on the shelf. She starts at the left of it, and considers each object places on it. There’s a bottle of perfume, half empty, and she tries to guess how many sprays it has left. Next to that, a childhood trophy of some description.

Then, she feels the pain. The cut is quick and sharp and the next second it’s wet and warm, and Wynonna has her mouth around the wound and is sucking and licking like she’d starved. She latches on and doesn’t let a drop spill. Waverly can feel her tongue and her teeth and without thinking, her hand goes to tangle in Wynonna’s hair.

Wynonna whole world narrows to that one act. She tosses the knife to the side and grips only Waverly’s leg with both her hands, while she drinks as deeply as she can.

Beyond the wet sound of sucking, Waverly can hear Wynonna’s breathing getting hard and heavy, though oddly nasal as her mouth is occupied.

A minutes passes, and Wynonna shows no sign of slowing down.

Waverly starts to feel... something. She feels oddly dizzy, and cold starts to spread down her limbs. With each passing second, she gets more and more tired.

With the last of her fading energy, Waverly pulls back hard on Wynonna’s head. The seal around the leg breaks, and Wynonna makes eye contact with her.

Her eyes are an unnatural yellow, brighter than the rest of her face, like there’s some hidden light source in her skull. Her skin is more flushed than it has been, the colour coming back before Waverly’s eyes in an almost liquid pattern, like painting in watercolour. The lower half of her face is covered with smeared blood. Wynonna runs her tongue around the edges of her mouth.

“Wynonna...” Waverly speaks but her own voice sounds warped, twisted. the edges of her vision start to blur first, then blacken.

Waverly feels her centre of gravity start to shift, then collapse, and she falls back onto the bed. The last thing she’s aware of is Wynonna’s body on top of hers, a shifting silhouette in the dark, and the unearthly yellow glow of her eyes.

///

Waverly wakes to a strange light, soft and undefined. The sun is either rising or setting but she has no way to tell which, and her memories of where she is and how she got there elude her for the half minute it takes her to wake up. Soon, she recognises the shape of the room, the placing of the furniture. Remembers why she has the ache on her leg. Waverly’s hand goes to her wound but she finds something soft and clean instead. Without looking, she rubs at it, feeling a certain type of texture that she realises is that of a bandage.

A hand wraps around her wrist.

“Leave it alone,” Wynonna says, “You don’t want to agitate it.”

Waverly draws her hand back.

With Wynonna’s help, she sits up. The sudden change in elevation makes her head spin, and she always falls right back down, stopped only by Wynonna’s firm hand on her back.

It takes her a minute to realise that her leg is aching.

“Ow...” Waverly says, but it’s soft and drawn out, more a statement of fact than it’s normal intended use.

“I know,” Wynonna says, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get so... carried away.”

“It’s fine, I’m fine,” Waverly tries to wave her off, but the motion is weak, and only goes against her intended point.

Wynonna sighs. She slides her arm around Waverly’s shoulders. Waverly realises that more of Wynonna’s skin is exposed than it had been before. She looks, and sees that Wynonna is shirtless. When did that happen?

“I’m sorry,” Wynonna turns her face into Waverly’s shoulder and the words end in a mumble. Without thinking, Waverly’s hand goes to Wynonna’s had, to stroke her hair down.

“You needed it,” Waverly says.

“I needed it.”

Wynonna pulls away far, and the sudden distance between them is disconcerting. Wynonna isn’t looking at her, but at the bandage on her leg. She’s looking so intently, Waverly swears she can feel the cut burn and itch from the heat of it.

“You’d let me do anything.”

Wynonna still doesn’t look at her. Doesn’t vary her voice, so there’s no inflection to mark it as a question, but Waverly answers anyway.

“Within reason.”

Wynonna tilts her head just so, and the bedside lamp catches her at the right angle. She casts a long, odd shadow. It engulf Waverly as she moves closer. Wynonna clasps her hand on Waverly’s leg, over the injury. She squeezes, hard enough to make it hurt. Waverly doesn’t protest, even as her nails dig in. Her hand moves higher.

“This isn’t reasonable.”

Waverly can’t even see Wynonna before she kisses her. She can taste her own blood. The hand on her leg moves between them.

Waverly’s hand grabs at Wynonna’s back out of reflex. Wynonna breaks to kiss at her neck, and over her shoulder, Waverly can see the sun starting to rise through the blinds. Wynonna pushes her, and she lands on her back. She climbs on top of her.

What the hell, Waverly thinks, and lets herself be moved.

She’s already given her blood. She can give a little more.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Please R&R, as always :) You can [follow me on tumblr](https://earpcin.tumblr.com/) or [buy me a coffee](https://ko-fi.com/V7V85FBD), if you want to support me!


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